


Voicemail

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29826303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: Jack has a little too much to drink and can’t help but call you and reminisce on the better times.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Kudos: 5





	Voicemail

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Pedro Pascal’s performance for the 24 Hour Plays back in April of 2020! This takes quotes directly from that monologue, which is “For All the Lovesick Mad Sad Geniuses” by Ngozi Anyanwu, but also includes some paraphrasing and additions.

Jack sat his glass down on the table heavily and reached for his close-to-empty bottle of Bourbon to pour himself another glass. His fifth one that night. He felt pathetic. He felt hopeless. But above all that, he felt like a stark-raving _dumbass_.

It had been two months since he’d left you. Since he’d sat you down and told you that he couldn’t be with you because you deserved more than him. He couldn’t be home enough. Couldn’t be safe enough. Couldn’t _be_ enough. You deserved the damn world, and he was hardly more than the dirt off the soles of someone’s shoes. He couldn’t ask you to settle for someone like him.

You’d argued with him. Because _of course_ you had. You’d tried to reason with him. Tried to tell him that _of course_ he was enough. That he’d _always been_ enough. But Jack hadn’t been swayed. He’d walked out, leaving you both defeated and broken and hating himself even more for having the audacity to believe he could have someone like you.

Jack sighed into his glass at the memory, and before he could stop himself he pulled out his phone and pulled up your contact information. There was a nagging voice in his mind that begged him to reconsider. _You’re drunk off your ass, cowboy,_ the voice mocked. _What makes you think they’ll want anything to do with you now anyway?_

But Jack’s bourbon haze kept him from paying the voice much mind as he hit the call button next to your name. He wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t form a sentence. The five-going-on-six glasses of alcohol just helped him be able to say what he needed to. That had to count for something, right?

His chest tightened as he listened to the phone ring. And ring. And ring. The more times it rang, the further his heart fell into his stomach. Eventually your voicemail picked up his call, the automated voice seeming to condescend to him as it told him you hadn’t answered.

Of course you hadn’t.

But Jack was determined. He had things to say to you, and by god, he was going to _say_ them. He stayed on the line until your phone beeped at him to start his message.

At which time he promptly forgot everything he’d wanted to say.

“…hi,” he blurted out. “I…I…I-“

_I miss you. I love you. I fucked up so fucking bad, baby, please forgive me so I can come back to you where I belong-_

“I was thinkin’ about you. I always do, ‘round this time. All the time, actually. Anyway… you’re probably not even thinkin’ about me. Do you ever think about me? …Even a little?”

Jack swallowed hard and sighed into the phone. What was he _doing_?

“What am I sayin’? What am I tryin’ to say?”

He paused as he rubbed his palm against his forehead in frustration.

“What the _fuck_ am I tryin’ to _say_?”

Jack took a couple of heaving, shaky breaths. He was trying his hardest to not turn into a weepy, pathetic drunk. He wasn’t succeeding.

 _Happy,_ he thought. _Think of something happy you damn moron._

“Do you remember,” he started, “do you remember when we went hikin’ that one time? I’d tried to be a show-off and impress you by crossin’ that little stream without gettin’ wet. ‘Course, I fucked up and slipped on a rock. Fell into the water and took you right down with me. I was so fuckin’ scared you’d be pissed off at me. But you weren’t. You _laughed_. You smiled at me and laughed so hard you cried. And I… I kissed you. And you let me.”

Jack felt his composure crumbling, and scrambled to finish his thought before it was gone completely.

“And it… and it… it was like a scene out of a fuckin’ movie. And life was never better than that.”

There it was. Jack lost his already weak grasp on his dignity and broke. He pulled the phone away from his face so he wasn’t sobbing directly into the speaker. He felt small enough without thinking about you pulling your own phone away from your face in disgust while he cried. He gathered himself quickly, knowing he didn’t have much time left before your voicemail cut him off. He couldn’t let that happen. He still had too much to say.

“Why… why’d you have to love me like that, baby? _Why’d you have to love me back?_ ” He said desperately in a low voice. “Why’d you have to make me believe I was worth somethin’?”

Jack sighed again, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Sometimes… sometimes I think that maybe… maybe I made you up. That you’re not really real. That you’re too damn good to be with some washed up, broken son of a bitch like me, so you can’t be real. So I go into the quietest place in this house and I whisper your name to myself. Thinkin’ maybe if I say it enough times you’ll be there again.”

He paused. Again. He knew his time was running out.

“I… I wish I could scream it. Wish I could scream your name so loud you’d hear it and come runnin’. Should I scream it? I will. I should.”

Jack was rambling. The fact that he was drunk was becoming more obvious by the second. He was out of time.

“I…. I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. For everything. You don’t have to call me back. I understand. I love you, darlin’. I always will.”

_Click._

Jack let his phone fall to the couch beside him. He dragged himself to his feet, stumbled to his room, and decided not to bother taking off his clothes before he fell into bed and slipped into unconsciousness.

————————

The first think Jack noticed when he awoke the next morning was how fucking _bright_ it was. His head pounded. The room spun around him. He closed his eyes and groaned, willing his stomach to stop turning long enough for him to breathe properly. He stayed like that for a while, the only sounds around him being his own breathing and his ceiling fan. After some time and sheer force of will, Jack managed to get himself to his feet. He made his way through his house, remembering the voicemail he’d left you last night.

He realized with some surprise that he didn’t regret what he’d said. Well, not all of it, anyway. Not the important parts. As he caught sight of his phone on the couch where he’d dropped it, his stomach flipped again and his pulse accelerated. Did he even want to know if you’d replied? Did he want to know what you’d said if you had?

Slowly and with shaking hands, he picked up the phone and checked it. He stopped breathing when he saw that he had texts from you. He wasn’t surprised, you’d always preferred to text instead of call unless he was away on a mission.

After fumbling over a few attempts, Jack unlocked his phone and opened up your messages.

_My house. Now._

_Or whenever you’re recovered enough from your hangover to drive._

Jack’s heart skipped and he huffed out the breath he’d been holding. He was embarrassed but not surprised that you’d noticed he was drunk. How could you not have? Jack thought about responding. Letting you know he was on his way so you’d have time to prepare… whatever it was you were going to do when he got there. Scream at him? Punch him? Tell him to go fuck himself? But he thought better of it.

He was by no means recovered enough from his hangover to drive, but that didn’t stop him. Neither did the fact that he was still wearing his clothes from the day before. Or the fact that he looked like a goddamn mess. No. You had asked him to come to you, and neither heaven nor hell themselves could keep him from you.

The universe seemed to show him enough mercy to ease some of his pounding headache and dizziness by the time he made it to your doorstep. Even then, he hesitated, suddenly wishing he had cleaned up before driving over. The wrinkled shirt, red-rimmed eyes, and tousled hair painted a picture of a man that Jack was embarrassed to be. But he was here. And he wasn’t leaving you again until you ordered him to.

He brought a hand up to your door and knocked quickly before he could lose his nerve. His heart was in his throat as he heard you shuffle around on the other side, making your way to the door. As the lock clicked and the door swung open, it revealed a picture Jack was in no way ready for.

Your reddened eyes matched his. As did your messy hair and wrinkled clothes. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Maybe that you’d answer the door dressed to the nines, perfect in every way, demonstrating how much you flourished without him. He didn’t know. But he hadn’t foreseen you answering the door looking just as worn down and broken as he did.

You both stood there for a moment before you moved slightly and motioned for Jack to come in. He did so, but stood close by as you shut the door, not wanting to go too far into your home without permission. You kept your hands on the door, your back to him as you spoke.

“Did you actually mean anything you said, or were you just drunk?” You asked finally. Your voice was hoarse. It sounded like every word scraped and scratched at you as it left your throat.

“I meant it.” Jack said in a voice that was equally raw, “I meant it all. I just needed a few before I called you to make sure I’d actually say it.”

You took a shaking breath as you brought your hands off of the door and turned to face him. He noticed your eyes shining and a tear sliding down your cheek. He wanted to reach out and brush it away. He wanted a lot of things.

“You know you’ll have to earn my trust all over again, right?” You asked. A spark of hope lit up somewhere within him.

“I know,” Jack said, “I know I will, baby. I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life. I thought I was savin’ you, and instead I hurt you so fuckin’ bad. And I am so sorry.”

You nodded slightly, casting your eyes downward and clenching your jaw. You were wrestling with something. Jack could only pray that the end result was in his favor. Finally, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“I’m giving you one more chance. Don’t make me regret it.” Your eyes welled up with fresh tears as you continued in a whisper, “And I - I love you too, Jack. I never stopped.”

Jack spent so much of his energy trying to come up with a reply that he stopped trying to keep himself upright and fell to his knees. He grabbed at you then, pulling you down to him as you both sobbed into the other’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Jack said through his tears, “Thank you, baby. I’ll do better. I promise. I love you. Love you so much darlin’.”

You responded in kind, then pulled his lips to yours in kiss after kiss that was laced with tears and desperation. Jack smiled then. The first genuine smile he’d had since he left. He was back where he belonged. He was _home_.


End file.
